Carpet Cleansing of the Soul

in beautifully symmetrical strokes
he laid my past to rest
I stood in the doorway
of my apartment not to be mine
with empty walls, white surfaces
devoid of everything I had lived
not to cross the threshold
and taint once more
marring it or me with a touch
instead turning the key
feeling the latch slide again
OCD'ly pushing to be certain
a tick bred from six years
then feet leading me flightly forth
unburdened, clean

Surrender to the Undertow

emotion like the sea
not the water itself
but the movement
a breaking wave
or the gentlest ripple
impossible to capture
always the tide rolling
into a vacant heart
or pouring like Niagara
and since a child
I tread farther from shore
until the surge takes me
immersed in the ecstasy

The New Appalachians

piles of boxes
laundry clean and yet to be
emaciated dresser
devoid of its drawers
level upon level
my very own mountain range
of dishes and stereos
books next to camera bag
electronics & shoes & blankets
a new skyline emerging
to be changed tomorrow
and the next day
until the sierra is flatland again

30 Days Notice

dusty corners and nails in the wall
walking out with a sigh
relief but not
for though the end is in sight
I'm still running
racing the calendar
tearing one day at a time
exhaustion nibbling my ankles

Quicksand Night

wasteful of time
that precious commodity
I felt I had banked enough
instead I burned it away
and the moon moves higher
on the night before the end
so that I weigh my options
trading work for sleep
but knowing it isn't even
either way I'm stacked behind
with dawn on my tail

Hand Me a #2

making choices in faith
not certainty
though it leaves me unsettled
precarious footing again
still one step follows the other
drawn forward
as graphite to paper
sketching the reality of me
eraser at the ready
inked ridges of fingerprints
mark my heart, my thoughts
yet even such pure forensics
can't hold the answers
only a broken spiral

Moving Day

the phone rang again
and though I understood
I didn't comprehend
couldn't truly imagine
their exodus after so long
such that her words fell
without me catching
only nodding invisibly
apprehension in my throat

Prism Infinity

even as the moon ascends
the air chokes me
when I lift out of my car
fogging my glasses
haloing the stars in rainbows

Merry-Go-Away

like my childhood itself

each new layer a bright replacement

yet bled through from the time before

because history isn't rewritten

as though from scratch each time

but is built upon the foundation

a tower of creation, experience

beholden to the life before

Voracious Repose

with wrists bound
my dreams dragged me away
sunlight only a memory
as I sank, immersed in black
spots expanding to faces
voices as if from a well
and then from behind my eyes
words that made no sense
as I stood in their living room
missing a wall
missing reality
this fiction floating me deeper
until I see them as distractions
empty talking heads
to hold my gaze, my thoughts
so I wouldn't notice the ropes
fettered to this illusion
where strangers don the faces
of my heart ties
devoid of love, thought
aberrations with fabricated smiles
feeding upon the light I held

Whether Mukluks or Loafers

three years old I followed in his footsteps

returning with a battered box

he surrendered his treasure to daddy's princess

portal to a new world, watching through the lens

shutter click like a door slamming behind me

another in the long hallway I would travel

first, limbs dangling, held on his arm

then a mile high on his shoulders

hands clasped side-by-side

now two steps ahead, checking behind seldom

but always certain he'll still be there

because even as I lead the way

I'm walking in his footsteps

...has issued a severe...

when I turned back around
clouds poured across the sky
like spilled India ink
fingers at the edges
engulfing the last blue specks
until the prenoon hour was as dusk
ominous speed stilling my conversation
so that I jumped
(just a little)
when the weather radio blared
warning timely yet overdue
so that the automated voice
served as introduction
to the bursting cumulus
sluicing the pavement
drowning the air
and then once spent
bolting for the eastern horizon

Like Falling Apples

choices  I made

inevitable as gravity

without thought

only a tug behind my sternum

pulling toward the match

until it feels right

dropping into place

with a click I can't hear

and yet it echoes

To Prepare

tying loose ends
so that nothing trails
grasping at my edges
during my momentary escape
placating old hearts
in the vain hope
that time passes unnoticed
gliding beneath their radar
without tick, tick, boom

(Not So) Empty Drawers

unfolding gently

an image of dusty rose, sage, and a pale yellow

like August sun sifting through a windowpane

each stitch tiny and exquisite

arching petals of delicate beauty

more feminine than I have ever been

with my hefty teals and square corners

I feel clumsy even touching it

meant for ivory finger grace

like bone china and opera gloves

not my curious hands

smoothing creases in age tinted fabric

imperfectly, but with great adoration

As the World Revolves

clock spins like a top

suddenly another day gone, another chance lost

world rotating so swiftly I tend to stumble

and a stumble can so easily become a fall

pitching and reeling as the earth speeds past

but not on this turn

today it is only a falter, momentary

righted and moving forward again

because the clock never stops spinning

and neither do I

Moving, Keep Moving

empty holes where things used to be
creating shadows I don't know
and spaces that catch my gaze
the absence making them visible
noticeable after years of granted
until I wonder how you can fight it
what the trick is to withstanding
passing the time still seen
never blending into the wallpaper
when his eyes skim by

Corner Couch Dozing

soft music drones from down the hall
on a Saturday afternoon
rain beating a bass undertone
hypnotic and soothing
papers splayed across my lap
I adjust the blanket
somehow hooked on the couch arm
once settled again the warmth ascends
eyes unfocused, chin starts to dip
muscles slack until a folder slips
and that motion breaks the spell
suddenly lids flit open
thirty second half rest rejuvenating

Divine Design

tiny veins criss-cross his lids
like leaves lit by sunlight
streams of the new life coursing
and pink fingers flailing
brushing eyes, lips, nose
squirming, he gently thumps
my lace-clad collarbone
settling finally into the crook
as though arms built to hold him
divine design carved for Eli

Gemini

born of mirror images
copies sent two by two
endless babble tough to gauge
bound to tell all they knew

focus of the duel mind
once scattered then at peace
capricious yet you shall find
their thoughts can never cease

Impending Swelter

heavy with moisture

wading through a wall of air

that waits hind closed doors

Entrance

a voice clear as spring water
sparkling in the din
her laughter rounded the corner
precursor to her smile
announcing her arrival with fanfare
so that conversation ceased
silence greeting her certain steps
until she filled the doorway
round hips and blond curls
perpetual joy with bright eyes
an imperceptible nod
and the spark of conversation flared
returning as if never halted
only embracing her discourse

The Nature Show

so very discreet, they thought me blind
just beneath the desk his hand brushed hers
thumb grazing knuckles until she grasped back
joyful hunger in her gaze
my fingers flitting over keys, I hid my smile
idle chatter dropped from my lips
moving ever forward to maintain the illusion
mustn't startle the subjects
and risk losing my voyeuristic pleasure
witness to shiny, new love

Children of Iowa Land

straps digging into my forearm
as I lug bags to the kitchen
gently resting on the floor
as from a magician's top hat
appear rainbows of flavor
strawberries like speckled garnets
gently-firm yellow tomatoes
their flesh nearly bursting
streaked green of new cukes
and creamy white cheese
sharp and young
children of Iowa land
each born of care and love




(I apologize for being late.  Blogger was down last night and I was unable to post.)

Razor Witness

he wasn't what I expected
all sharp corners and jagged edges
the planes of his face slicing the air
even as daggers dropped from his lips
unbeknownst
oblivious to his cutting words
tunnel vision to his target
with no time for my distractions
thoughts and feelings taboo
in his ordered existence
with its sharp tongue and jagged touches
set to gouge my soul

Grammar Battlefield

words float in my vision
a menagerie of wild verbs
wretchedly influencing
the rest of the predicate
as they proclaim their demands
while the famously angelic nouns
subject us to their secrets

Green Thumbs and Skinned Knees

caked in dirt
sweat clinging at the nape
and turning my lips salty
I stand
dusk well upon
stealing the last reflected glow
hose in hand
the final touches of our planting
descending in shower
and for a split second it flutters
the long forgotten desire
to skip through falling water
turn the spray to self
cleaned like an errant child or dog
dingy rivers traveling the driveway
but only a moment passing
echoing memories of this yard
when knees were skinned
and cheeks a sun-splashed pink

Compounding Vexation

disagreeable
without discernible reason
and more so as hours pass
feeling snippy in my thoughts
while painting a smile
yet I find no cause
the search only fanning the flame
like melody just a touch sharp
or contorting to find an itch
averseness ebbs and flows within
baseless and self-fulfilling irritation

Evening Out(Down)pouring

droplets
fat and almost warm
splashing against bare arms
rolling streams
escaping at the elbow
lightning in the distance
no crackling veins
only sudden floods
like a camera flash
illuminating then gone
foray into the chaos
I stride
feeling curious watchers
safe under cover
they sit in borrowed chairs
sipping borrowed air
as a gust fills my skirt
billowing my steps lighter

Potted, Planted, Prospered

roots nestled gently
soil buoyant beneath my touch
sating green leaf thirst